The way you hang clothes out says a lot about a person.
Not done "properly", it can trigger people to say a lot about the way a person hangs clothes out. Which can say a lot about those people. And writing about what is says about those people saying stuff about the way a person hangs clothes out can say a lot about the person who's writing about those people.
But that's hanging clothes for you!
Everyone has an opinion, even if they think they don't.
And it comes into focus during these hot and humid days where there's a lot of futile attempts at drying going on.
Mainly in the garage.
Primarily because it's raining outside all the time and it's 100 per cent humidity inside - which is technically raining without the drops, unless you count the tear drops that hanging clothes out can generate.
La Nina seems to draw vehement, subconscious anxieties to the surface, and it could have something do with easing toward your last clean, relatively undamp pair of Reg, or Regina, Grundies.
Which brings us to the ancient art of hanging clothes out to dry, and with Assange on the cusp of release, or extradition, let's trump up for free speech.
Now I'm from the school which believes there is no sacred order in which clothes should be hung. Nor when, apart from when the washing machine stops. Just put 'em on the line and wait for the sun to shine. They reckon it will eventually.
Nor am I too mindful as to the areas of clothes to which pegs should be attached. Indeed, pegs are a bonus and I will happily drape if required. Over anything - bannister, chair, my forehead.
But others in this world have big opinions across the spectrum, and when I say spectrum ... we're all on it. Hanging clothes gives a great indicator as to where.
Certain clothes should be hung from the top, you'll find, others from the bottom, some from the armpits.
Avoid the pleat whereever possible (we're not living in the 70s), but with some work clothes, go for the crease.
Underpants are at all times deserving of two pegs and never hang the towels on the line nearest the fence where the magpies like to unload.
For someone who rarely thinks about it much, it's a lot to think about, but don't kid yourself it doesn't make sense, to someone, and no-one's immune.
You might not be compelled to peg with like-coloured, matching-sized pegs forming a perfectly shaped peg rainbow, as some are.
Nor do shirts first, then pants, with underwear in between to facilitate ventilation, or hang in some geometric pattern that guarantees direct sunlight to the majority of the wash - if and when the sun finally shines.
But simply through doing, you'll eventually peg your own individual foible, and I realise now I am a sock man.
No matter how haphazard the rest of the wash, I will studiously peg each pair together. Not sure why, but I suspect is says a lot about the person hanging the clothes out.
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